Daddy's Little Boy: Heir to Darkness
by moonservant
Summary: Tom Riddle Sr. found his son in the orphanage and took him in. Now having a family, will Tom Riddle Jr. still become the notorious Lord Voldemort? Can the love of a parent save him from darkness or will the pull of his family lead him to the same destiny?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just to let you know, I always write my notes at the end. This is just the start to the story and I feel the need to explain a few things. Ms. Rowlings said the reason Tom Riddle was so evil was the manipulative nature of his parents' union. This would have changed had Merope lived and raised him. However, that raises the question, what would happen in Tom Riddle Sr. raised him? Besides a few details, I am hoping to keep this fairly cannon. The only thing that should change would be his time at the orphanage. That's the foundation on which I'm writing this. Do enjoy the chapter._

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the creation of Ms. J.K. Rowlings. I do own the plot though... sort of.**

It was a lovely April day in Little Hangleton. A warm breeze blew across the well-trimmed gardens of the Riddle Manor. The noise of travelers on the street in their coaches and the very occasional motorcar did not reach this high on the lawn, so the air was only permeated by chirping birds and the musical sound of child's laughter. Little Tom was just around the corner of the house, but Tom couldn't see him yet. He paused to inspect the bushes Frank had just clipped. He was new and still made mistakes at times. However, as he starred over the slightly crooked hedges, his mind was five years in the past, one New Year's Day in a cold London orphanage.

She'd died the night before, Merope, his former wife. Eight months prior, her enchantment on him had lifted and he'd turned her away, not knowing of the heir she'd carried inside her womb. He'd returned home to his confused and outraged parents to seek their hesitant forgiveness. It seemed life would be able to move beyond that mistake in his life, but report soon reached him of a child, and so he'd tracked her down, and not a moment too soon. The director, Mrs. Cole, was pleased to see him, announcing the birth of his son, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Naturally, he would have expected her to carry on his name, she had been obsessed with him. Too bad the middle name had to carry on her father's name. He would have much preferred to name him after his grandfather, Nicholas, but who was he to refuse a dying woman's wish? As he looked at the silent infant, he felt no love for the child. The association with his freak mother tainted that, but he was proud and refused to let a Riddle be raised in this slum. He took the child home much to his parents' protests.

Back in the present day, he continued around the corner to find his five year-old son playing in the grass. Several rocks were flying in front of him. Tom froze for a moment, shocked at this sight. He had hoped that Little Tom's eyes would be the only trace of his mother and that her unnatural ways would skip him. He'd suspected for awhile they hadn't, but perhaps with the right direction, Little Tom would never have to know about this. As it was, he knew almost nothing about the woman who gave him life. His senses quickly came back to him and he called out Tom's name sharply. As Little Tom looked up, the rocks fell to the ground.

"Daddy!" the small child cried in unparalleled joy at seeing his father. Tom's face split with a smile. It took time, but he had come to love his son unconditionally. "Look what I can do!" He turned back to the rocks, which started to twitch, but Tom quickly grabbed them.

"That wasn't you. It was... the wind," he lied. He was still young enough to believe everything he was told. Little Tom looked mildly crestfallen, but perked back up instantly.

"Guess what?" Tom asked playfully. Little Tom was very intelligent and loved guessing or strategy games. The boy thought for a moment, but couldn't think of anything. "Cecilia and Freddy are coming over for lunch today." But instead of the enthusiastic response he expected, the child's brows knitted together and his lower lip pouted out. "What? I thought you liked Freddy?" Little Tom shook his head.

"I like Freddy... a little bit. He's not very smart. I don't like Miss Patterson," he mumbled. The small box in Tom's pocket became painfully obvious. Cecilia Patterson, his long time girlfriend, had agreed to take him back after years of dignified pleading. His elopement had caused quite the scandal, but she eventually overlooked that. Now, he wanted to make her part of the family. But his son had to be comfortable with this too.

"Why don't you like her?" Little Tom shrugged.

"She tells lies about me and my mother. Freddy told me and I heard her at that party in the city. People shouldn't tell lies," he declared in a tone too mature for his age.

"No, they shouldn't. And I hope you're not now. What did Freddy say she said?" He shrugged again.

"That Mother was poor, and tricked you into marrying her, and that she was a... a... loose woman." Tom's fist was wrapped in a death grip around the rock. He never told Tom about his mother and he didn't want anyone ruining his son. Tom Riddle Jr. would not be tainted by his mother's memory. He would grow up proud of his heritage. "What does that mean? How can someone be loose?"

"You're too young, but don't listen to her. She won't bother us again," Tom promised. "Now, go get cleaned up and tell Grandmother that I won't be here for lunch." With a quick hug, the small boy ran inside. Tom watched the rock fall to the ground and then abruptly stood to head for the stables. No one crossed Tom Patrick Riddle.

XXXXXXXXX

The Patterson Estate was just across the village, a solid fifteen minute ride. Being the high class, well-bred young man he was, Tom managed to put on a happy face as he banged the heavy brass knocker. Cecilia answered in a light-pink day dress. It was apparent that she was still in the process of getting ready, but couldn't resist seeing him. He had to admit, he was quite good looking and anyone would be hard pressed to ignore him.

"Tom! I didn't expect you to be here," she greeted him, offering him her hand. He obligatorily kissed it and gave a smile that did not reach his green eyes, not that she noticed. Her icy heart was quickly melting in his presence.

"No, I had a change of heart. Could we go for a walk... privately?" She gave the smallest of gasps, her smile growing wider, as she misinterpreted his intentions. Well, to give her credit, he had planned on proposing to her today, but not now.

"Of course. Is Tom with you? My brother just left. Freddy's right upstairs if he wants to go up," she offered charmingly. He assured her Tom was at home, allowing her to excuse herself to fetch her shoes and parasol. Two minutes later, they were heading down to the forest behind her house. They made small talk as they reached the river. At first, it was to keep up the appearance of looks. It would not do to have the common villagers see members of the upper class arguing, especially if one of them was a woman. Finally, they reached a point where he felt they were truly alone.

"Cecilia, I must ask you a very grave question, and I warn you not to lie to me," he interrupted her. She appeared confused, but not being the most intelligent of creatures, assumed he was teasing her and her eyes glittered with anticipation.

"Of course Tom! You may ask me anything," she breathed.

"What have you been saying about my son specifically in regards to his mother?" The glimmer died and she took a step back. Now she saw that he was truly angry and it was a frightening sight.

"Tom, you must understand how everyone sees him. A child, born to a seductress, it's just unfit. No one blames you... men have their weaknesses, but is it really necessary to keep him? You'd be better off without him," she mumbled. He had demanded honesty, and she wouldn't refuse him anything. His anger with her rose exponentially and he couldn't resist shouting.

"Don't you ever talk about my son like that! He's a thousand times higher than you are!" he tore her down. It was a complete slight, and tears stung her eyes.

"I'm sorry Tom. I swear, I'll never say a word about it again. It was a mistake. Please forgive me," she asked.

"Never. You've insulted my family. But you're right. If you know what's good for you, you'll never speak in such a manner again," he snarled. She began crying and grabbed his hand as she fell to her knees, keeping him from walking away.

"No, please, don't do this. Don't leave me Tom. Please, I love you!" Those words took him far away.

_'What are you doing here? Where am I?' he asked, his head fuzzy. The beggar's daughter-what was her name- Merope, was standing before him, but she didn't look as he remembered her. She was cleaned up, wearing fine clothing and a ring upon her wedding finger... as was he._

_"Tom, my love, you've been under a spell for a long time, but it was only to make you realize my true potential. Now, I cannot image it's necessary," she beamed. Instead of answering his questions, he simply found more._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You don't remember? We've been married now for four months. I guess this may be a side effect of the potion. I don't know. I never had formal schooling," she confessed. Tom was dumbstruck. He married _her?_ And what did she mean by potion? He refused to ask about the marriage outloud, to make it real, so he asked after the second bit of information._

_"What do you mean 'potion?'"_

_"I... I was waiting to tell you this later, but... I'm a witch." It took a moment for the words to sink in, but as she reached to place a hand on his shoulder, he jerked away, stumbling backwards._

_"Don't touch me!" he shrieked. Tears filled her grey eyes, but he didn't care. "You're a witch? And I married you!" he yelled, trying to put this into sense._

_"Y-yes Tom," she chocked out, trying to fight the sobs that were threatening to escape her throat._

_"But I didn't know about this? You... enchanted me?" he asked less loudly._

_"Just to help you see is all!" she cried. The first bit of relief filled him since he'd... awoken?_

_"Then it's not legal! We're not actually married."_

_"No Tom! Don't do that! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you yet." She came towards him, but he moved away again towards the door._

_"Stay away from me witch! I want nothing to do with you. Don't find me or my family!" He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand, falling to her knees._

_"No please, don't do this! Don't leave me Tom. Please, I love you." He yanked his hand away and nearly ran down the hallway. She shouted something after him, but he didn't listen. He didn't care._

It was only now, after all these years, that he finally realized what she'd shouted after him. _What about our child?_ He'd only had mind to escape at that point. He'd almost ruined his dear son's life in his anger. A feeling of complete rage rose in his chest as he stared down at Cecilia: rage at Merope for tricking him, rage at himself for not listening, and rage at her for making him realize this. Unable to control himself, his hand connected hard against her face, sending her flying away. Now feeling the full hurt of being scorned, Cecilia came running at him, hitting him weakly with her fists. He thrust her away from him, using far more force that was necessary. Cecilia stumbled backwards towards the steep bank and tripped over a root. She rolled down into the swift spring current of the river. Tom ran after her, but she was pulled away too quickly. He imagined that if he jumped in after her, he could probably save her, but that would be dangerous to his health and would leave his son an orphan. After all, she was no one truly important. He watched her float downstream until she finally sank under the cold water. It wasn't what he'd planned, but he'd made good of his promise to Little Tom. She would never bother him again.

He returned to the manor and called the police to report the incident. He concealed the reason they'd been down there. He told them they'd gone down so that he could propose to her, offering the ring as evidence, and that she'd tripped in her excitement. He was honest about trying to save her though. The police gave him their sympathies, Mr. Patterson wished him farewell behind barely concealed tears. He wasn't guilty of anything. Life was good now. He could focus on raising his son right and making sure that nothing like this ever happened again.

_A/N: Stay with me here. This chapter was more to set up the relationship between the Toms and give Tom Sr. a characterization outside of the brief picture in the book. I just cannot think he's a completely kind man. I picture him as being selfish and perhaps violent, though not murderously so. He does have a heart when it comes to his son, but still not the best of people. You'll see more of that. So what did you think? Please review. Constructive criticism is welcome. _


	2. Chapter 2

Tom Riddle sat in his study thinking back over his son's life. Today, Tom returned from his first year at Eton School for Boys, an age-old institution every Riddle had attended since its opening. It was a proud moment for both he and his parents. His son was growing up. Of course, he'd known for awhile that Tom had changed from the continually happy little boy he had been once. While the death of Cecilia had stopped the open spreading of rumors, many people suggested he was behind it, he was still aware of the whispering that went on around him. The first week of school, Little Tom came home in tears because of his classmates teasing him. He'd eventually spoken with the children's parents, but it didn't change anything really. He'd talked to his son, telling him to ignore it, reminding him that he was Riddle and therefore better than all of them, and it did help him appear to have a thicker skin. Tom had been so happy when his son brought home a friend, but it was his only friend. His reputation prevented him from having any real kind of a social life. It had been his hope that at Eton, Tom might have escaped the rumors, but apparently not. Before him sat a letter from the headmaster. Apparently Tom experienced some problems from the other students and, more disturbingly, strange, unexplainable occurrences arose concerning those students. That line made Tom's blood crawl. He'd never come across Tom doing anything weird after the incident with the rocks, but what if...

"Tom! He's here!" his mother called up to him. He pushed aside his worry, overjoyed to see his son again. They would talk later. He went downstairs to find his mother checking his father's coat as if the Prime Minister was arriving, not their grandson.

"Mary, you're being ridiculous," he drawled, rolling his eyes at Tom with a good-natured smile. Tom shrugged sympathetically and headed out to meet the car. Tom Jr., now 11 years old, swiftly stepped out as the engine died. He embraced his father and Tom was shocked to see how much he'd grown since the spring break. He was up to his shoulder now. He was going to be very tall and exceedingly handsome, a factor that would help him later in life.

"How was the trip?" he asked as Tom stepped back.

"It was uneventful," he replied smoothly. "What's wrong?" Tom Jr. had a way of reading people. Tom Sr. placed his hand on his son's shoulder with a refined sigh.

"We'll talk later," he said as cheerfully as possible. Tom Jr.'s face grew dark as he searched his face and Tom had the feeling his soul was being investigated.

"I was justified," he told him mysteriously before heading in the house. Tom was completely stunned as he turned around to follow Tom Jr. into the house, but quickly ended his thoughts. It was a probable guess if it got the headmaster's attention. With a slight shrug to himself, he followed the boy into the manor.

XXXXXXXXX

Tom arrived just as mother was finishing fawning over how much her dear grandson had grown in the last few months. Most people would be surprised to learn that Mary Riddle was actually quite a dramatic person. At the age of 13, she'd attempted to run away from home to become an actress, but her father intercepted her. After months of confinement, she had accepted the fact that as a young lady, acting was completely unacceptable and applied her talents to manipulating the blue-blooded society around her. To the rest of the world, she appeared to be a vivacious, but refined woman who had an air of mystery about her. It was one of the reasons Thomas Riddle had been so attracted to her, which completely surprised Tom.

Thomas Riddle was perhaps the exact opposite of his wife. While he was not dull, he was neither spontaneous or emotional. He was always seen as a very level-headed person with practical expectations in life. He was not a dreamer at all, and due to this acceptance of reality, many people saw him as being rather cold. Tom was secretly glad that Tom Jr. took more after his grandmother. His life, while potentially marked with disappointment, would never be dull.

Mary let go of the grinning child, who was too old to feel comfortable with his grandmother's doting, but who still appreciated the attention. His grandfather gave him a curt, gentlemanly handshake and presented him with a box. It was a family tradition that after the first year at Eton the young man earned his first set of real cuff-links. Even to this day, he wore his. Tom had been the one to design the boy's. While his were simple diamond studs, he felt that Tom deserved a reminder of who he was. With all the gossiping and insults, he wondered if Tom ever began to question his place as a Riddle, and so he had set his initials into miniature versions of the family crest. As Tom opened the box, his father knew he did the right thing. Tom's eyes sparked with pride and he even smiled a bit bigger. He immediately removed his old, childish set and placed his new cuff-links on his shirt sleeves.

"Thank you. These are magnificent," he told his grandparents. Mary's eyes were glittering with pride.

"Don't thank us. Your father picked them out," she told him. Tom nodded and gave his father an appreciative nod.

"Yes, well, I imagine you want to unpack and rest before dinner. I think you have a half an hour," Tom told the boy. With a polite word, Tom Jr. excused himself and left for his room, the butler trailing after him with his trunk.

XXXXXXXXX

Later that night, Tom finally worked up the nerve to talk to his son about the headmaster's reports. The door was open, but he still knocked anyways. Tom Jr. was laid out on his bed with a thick tome, and glanced over to the top at the sound. His father walked in and sat on the desk chair across from him.

"Headmaster Lincoln told me you had issues with your fellow students and that there were some... unusual occurrences that arose with those students. Do you have anything to say?" Tom Jr. gave him that look again as he responded with what he said earlier. Tom sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. Why couldn't this be simple? "What does that mean?"

"They attacked me first. They shamed our family name, spread lies about my mother, and therefore I was justified in defending myself. I didn't physically do anything to them. I simply... shook them up a bit."

"That's not what Professor Lincoln said. He claims you were responsible for Timothy's broken arm, the destruction of John's book bag, and, while there is no proof, the death of Paul's cat!" Tom Jr. gave him such a look of innocence, Tom instantly knew the headmaster was wrong. He knew his son.

"Father, listen to yourself. I can't even kill a spider, much less a cat. Do you think I would ever do things like that?" There was such an accusing note in his voice, that Tom felt disgusted with himself.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry for suspecting you. However, you have such great potential to be an outstanding politician that I would hate to see your future ruined by these false accusations. Since you do need to be more forceful with the general public, most will not see your gentle side, so you need to be careful Tom. Do you understand me?" he still lectured. Tom Jr. grimaced at the mention of his future. "What was that look for?"

"Forgive me, but I don't believe I want to go into politics. It just seems so chaotic and corrupt. I hated learning about it honestly," he confessed. Tom's best marks had been in history and oration, not that anything else had been bad at all. His professors had simply raved about how bright he was and how successful he was going to be.

"Well, I think you should consider it, but you do have plenty of time. And if you should decide to go into business or something else, that'll be fine. It's just, you could really make a name for yourself in politics," Tom pressed, trying to draw on something that would really interest the boy. Tom Jr. simply shrugged and turned back to his book.

"Perhaps, though as you said, I have plenty of time to decide. Is that all?" he practically dismissed his father. Tom shook his head as he stood.

"No, I guess not. I'm glad you're home." Tom smiled and nodded, but did not remove his eyes from his book.

"It's nice to be home too." His father was relieved that he sounded sincere about it. His biggest fear was his son hating him.

XXXXXXXXX

Tom watched as his father left and sighed as he turned back to his book. It was a good thing he was such a good liar, because the truth would have been far to hard to explain. It was true what Professor Lincoln wrote. He had been responsible for all of those things, though in his defense, he hadn't physically done anything to them. He didn't know how or why, but he could make things happen that he couldn't explain. If he thought about something and focused on that desire, it would come true. He'd realized this ability when he was five, and had started developing it at the age of seven. But it wasn't even just the ability to do things. He also knew things, such as the topic of the previous conversation, and snakes could talk to him. The first time a Gardner snake had spoke to him, he'd thought he was going crazy, but he knew now that he truly could talk to snakes. There had been times when he'd considered talking to his father about this, but he knew that would end terribly. His father was highly religious and would immediately assume the devil was possessing him. He remember how his father had reacted to the flying rocks. He didn't need to worry about talking snakes as well.

However, his father could not be completely unaffected by his abilities. It was because of these powers that he didn't want to do something as ordinary as politics. He was special and wanted to really make a difference. He would make a name for himself, but not in the way his father planned. No, he would come up with something so extraordinary that he would be more respected than His Majesty! Then no one would dare talk about him in a negative way. No one would ever claim that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a beggar's child thrown abandoned to a rich father.

_A/N: Well, huge jump in time. It's the start of a story so I'm rather impatient. I'm trying to decide where the next chapter should take place. Probably going to make a smaller time jump, but one nonetheless. So what did you think? I hope it wasn't too bad. I had a plan for this and then I lost it and started writing, found it, and it just couldn't be fixed really. Gah. Well, please review! Thank you for the support so far!_


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm not wearing that!" Tom Jr. declared defiantly to his father and grandmother as they stood before him with women's cover-up. Just yesterday, Tom and Eric Goodwin, a scholarship student from his school who had a bit of a mouth on him, got into an argument that ended in a fist fight. Tom insisted that Eric threw the first blow, though Tom Sr. expected his son may have started the entire thing. He had been in a foul mood yesterday and probably started the argument very intentionally. Normally, he would not mind his son's black eye and split lip, but today they were going to attend Lady Weston's annual summer tea party. Tom was now old enough to attend these smaller social events, which would allow him to begin networking with young people outside of school. However, that would be difficult with his appearance. "I'm a boy. We're supposed to do these kind of things!"

"Young men of your stature duel to resolve their differences and then agree to have as little contact as possible. The only time a fist fight is acceptable is in the defense of a person weaker than you. Your behavior was disgraceful," he lectured the boy.

"I told you, he hit me first!"

"Because you started it! I'm not ignorant Tom. I know you far too well to think you just let him go. You've had a thing against Eric since you were seven and you spent ten minutes yelling to the high heavens when you learned he was going to Eton with you. You hate him and wanted a fight yesterday. I understand that, but society will not. Just do it today, or else I'm forced to leave you here and tell everyone my son was unfit to join us today, because he was being childish." If there was one adjective that Tom Jr. would not stand to align himself with, that was childish. With a sigh, he gave into his father's demands and allowed his grandmother to cover his injuries in the disgusting cream. An hour later, the family was in the car.

It was fortunate that one could not properly talk in a car with all the noise of the engine as all the men were rather irritated about the party. Thomas, being a shy man, did not find pleasure in talking to people he did not like for hours on end. He preferred small, intimate gatherings with close acquaintances. Tom Sr. was still frustrated with his son for being so stubborn over a little request, but would cheer us as soon as they actually got there. Tom Jr. did not appreciate the make-up and had to rest the urge to rub it off. He would be angry the entire time, but would put on a good show for everyone else's benefit. Overall, it was the normal agitation that gripped families prior to social events intended to raise the spirits.

As they left the village, they passed a small run-down hut that Tom had often seen. However, this time a particullarly ugly and unintelligent-looking man stood outside with a dead snake in his hand. Oddly, Tom felt a pang of sadness towards the snake. The man stood muttering to himself, but Tom could not tell what he was saying.

"It really is a shame we cannot tear that place down," his grandmother drawled to her son. His father nodded as he stared off in the opposite direction as if he was not really listening. Tom thought he caught a haunted look flickering in his eye, but he could not tell what for. His grandfather sent his son a questionable look that Tom did not understand. "Well, perhaps when you are Prime Minister you'll be able to buy the rest of the valley and rid us of that eye sore," she joked to Tom. He just nodded and bit his tongue. He did not, under any circumstances, go into politics.

They arrived at Lady Weston's estate. She was a middle-aged widow with a two girls about Tom's age. The eldest, Susan, was three years older and terribly cruel, while young Ann, 9, was annoyingly timid. The last time Tom had met them, he had spent the five hours around them contemplating how to make Susan's death look like an accident and wondering if Ann actually knew how to speak. Luckily for him, Ann was still too young to join the older children in the actual party and Susan was older and, hopefully, more mature than she was two years ago. At the very least, she would be around adults and could not taunt him as badly. From the house came the sound of jazz music and chatter. Lady Weston was scandalize like that. Many people talked about her behind her back, but was always kind to her face. She had enough influence in matters that she made a terrible enemy. They were whisked into the house and their coats and hats were taken by silent servants. The noise was overwhelming and Tom felt powerful. He never knew why, but associating with the best of society, made him feel invincible. They made their way to the gardens where many people were crowded around a bird of a woman, their hostess herself. Upon seeing his grandmother, Lady Weston raised a clawed hand in the air and cried out in a carefully moderated voice, "Mary, my dear, how wonderful to see you!" Mrs. Riddle thought a woman of her age being called by her Christian name by someone as young as Lady Weston a crime. However, she too had to keep the woman in her good graces, and instead, put on a cheery face and greeted her warmly.

"Lady Weston, thank you so much for inviting us! You look wonderful!" Introductions were made and the adults quickly fell into conversation. The women discussed the latest fashion while the men talked politics and economics. Tom stayed around for a few minutes before excusing himself to talk to a group of boys his age. While the topics were still superficial, he could at least relate to school and summer plans. It seemed that with each revelation of a trip, the speaker had to top the one prior to him.

"What about you, Riddle?" John Brandon asked. He was one of Tom's least favorite people. Being highly pompous and three years ahead of Tom, he had made it his mission to make Tom's life horrid. He had tried to bring him down during school, but John had eluded him. His very tone had oozed mocking. Tom knew what he longed to say. 'Going to work in the fields with your mum?'

"Well, while there is nothing set exactly, my family is planning a tour of the continent once Father finishes us some important business dealings. He happens to know the French ambassador who has promised us the best stay in Paris imaginable." Several boys offered politely envious compliments and John just glared at him. Tom smiled innocently. While there was no plan to leave the country, Tom did plan to spend a great part of the summer reading up on history and geography. He would figuratively be touring the continent. And his father did know the ambassador who had made such a promise. They just were not taking him up on that offer yet. The conversation continued, but was interrupted by someone Tom dreaded even more than John.

"Hello boys, how are we doing today?" Susan gushed sweetly, her eyes evaluating each member of the crowd like prey. Tom refused to answer, but most mumbled politely. No one here liked the girl.

"Dear Susan, a pleasure to see you again," John responded enthusiastically. Tom perked up a bit and realized what was going on here. He was never fond of the expression "killing two birds with one stone," but it worked here. The two kept talking animatedly, and eventually they excused themselves to tour the garden. Tom, claiming the excuse his father was calling, left and followed the disgusting duo. His plan was more complex than he ever tried before and it took a lot of concentration. Finally, a giant bird swooped down and caught in Susan's fancy hair. The crow cried and flapped as Susan screamed and tried to pull it out. John hesitantly tried to pull it out, but was hit several times in the face, and Tom had nothing to do with that. Then, several rocks zoomed towards John and pelted him away. He ran, and they followed. His cries of pain turned to terror. The screams were attracting the attention of the adults now, so Tom helped the bird fly away and dropped the rocks. The two disgruntled children stood there and just cried. Not paying attention, Susan's hair fixed itself and the dirt marks on John's suit disappeared. Their mothers flocked to them, but upon discovering nothing wrong, attempted to console what they assumed was a misunderstanding. Surely the bird had just swooped close. But as they insisted, and as John went on about the rocks that followed him, it became embarrassing and they were pulled away to be talked to. Tom smiled and laughed to himself.

As the crowd was moving away, Tom Sr. noticed his son walking separate from others with a smirk on his face. His shoulders rose gently as if he were laughing. Did Tom have something to do with this? He would have to talk to him later.

XXXXXXXXX

"You called me?" Tom asked as he entered the library. Tom Sr. removed his glasses and closed the folder he had been reviewing.

"I did. I want you to be frank with me. Did you have anything to do with Susan and John's outburst earlier today?" he asked in as stern a voice as possible, trying to keep the desperation he felt at bay. Tom sighed ever so slightly and turned his gaze away.

"Of course not."

"Look at me when you say that." Tom's steely grey eyes met his and he could not find a hint of untruth in them.

"I did not do anything to them. I did see the accident. A giant crow flew too close to Susan and something fell down that hit John. They immediately started screaming and that's when everyone came down. They overreacted. That's it," he explained very matter-of-fact.

"Very well. You may go," Tom dismissed the boy. However, Tom Jr. did not leave. "Yes?"

"Why are you so determined to see the worst in me?"

"What do you mean?" Tom Jr. walked over and knelt down beside his father, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"You always assume I did something. Ever since I came home, you keep asking me if I did this, or if I had something to do with that. Why Dad?" Tom Sr. reached down and pulled his son into a tender embrace, guilt gripping him.

"I'm sorry Tom. I just worry about you. You have so much to overcome with these rumors floating around, and I would hate to see you be pulled down and ruined by them. You have to walk a fine line and truly be better than everyone else. I'm just trying to protect you. I don't think you're a bad kid. I'm so proud of you," he told him, tears now running down his face.

"But why?"

"Because you're my son, and I love you." The father and son let go and rubbed their eyes, now embarrassed by their outburst.

"Thank you, Father," Tom said with as straight a face as he could master.

"Of course Son. Do know that I'll always be proud of you, no matter what." With a shy smile, Little Tom walked out of the room, the tension between the two lighter than it had been in years.

_A/N: All right, so I know that may seen rather out of character for Tom, but it isn't necessarily. This is a slightly different kid than is presented in the books and he still wants his father's approval. So take it in that context. This was more of a lame chapter. I wasn't originally going to write it, but it'll be a bit more important later on and I wanted to show the extent of Tom's power. Let me know what you think and I'll try and update soon! School starts in just about a week so I'll be busy, but I'll try and write. I'm excited about the next chapter. I think you all know what happens there!_


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of June and July passed very peacefully after the heart-to-heart in the library that night. Tom Jr. stayed out of trouble and Tom Sr. allowed him more freedom and responsibility. There was a general ease about the Riddle Manor that even the villagers noticed. While the Riddles were not particularly well-liked, the public opinion was mildly more improved. However, that was disrupted on the 31st with the arrival of a very peculiar stranger. The Riddles were just sitting down to tea when the butler announced a Professor Dumbledore was waiting in the parlor for Master Tom. No one knew a Dumbledore, nor were they expecting visitors. Nevertheless, as he was a professor and Eton was a relatively large school, it was possible Tom simply never had a reason to know of him, and so he left his father and grandparents to meet this Dumbledore fellow.

Tom entered the parlor to find an older man with long grey hair highlighted with auburn and an even longer beard. He wore a purple suit and half-moon glasses. The thing that struck Tom the most though was his bright blue eyes that twinkled merrily with knowledge and power. Tom felt that if this man was from his school, he would have noticed him. Professor Dumbledore was someone who could not be ignored. Dumbledore stepped forward and extended a hand that Tom hesitantly shook.

"You must be Tom. I'm Professor Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you," he introduced himself.

"And you too," Tom returned. "How can I help you?"

"I'm a teacher at a school called Hogwarts. It's for special students such as yourself and we'd like to offer you a place there." Tom immediately refused. His entire family had gone to Eton and he would continue going there as well. Besides, he'd never heard of Hogwarts, such an odd name for a school, and he doubted the quality of its education. Dumbledore laughed lightly when Tom gave the former excuse. "Hogwarts is not a normal school. Tell me, have you ever been able to do things you couldn't explain?" Tom's eyes narrowed at this question. It was very peculiar and made him suddenly feel very self-conscience. Was this a trick?

"Why do you ask?"

"You're a wizard, Tom. At Hogwarts we would train you to control and explore your magic," Dumbledore told him bluntly. A wave of understanding washed over the boy as he suddenly had an answer for what it was he could do. Still, he had a hard time believing the older man. He nodded in understanding, but kept a skeptical look.

"Are you a wizard?" he asked methodically.

"I am."

"Prove it." Dumbledore seemed a tad surprised by this request, order more like it, but obliged nonetheless. He pulled out an oddly formed stick-like thing and waved it, causing the chair next to transform into a cat. Tom watched fascinated as the cat moved about the room rather dazed an confused. Dumbledore waved the wand again and the cat turned back into the chair. "What is that?" Tom asked in regards to the stick.

"It's a wand. You'll have to buy one to come to the school," Dumbledore explained, but Tom shook his head.

"I don't need one of those." Concentrating on the same chair, he caused it to rise into the air. Dumbledore was thoroughly impressed, but not as amazed as Tom assumed he would be.

"That's quite remarkable Tom. Most children your age, especially with non-wizarding or Muggle parents have no control over their magic. While some spells do not require a wand, others do and it is a required," he corrected him. The remark about his abilities triggered another question, but Tom was hesitant to ask. At first, it seemed an odd question, but this conversation was far from normal and Dumbledore was a teacher, so it seemed all right.

"I can talk to snakes. Can other people do that?" This information got the reaction he was previously looking for. The blue eyes narrowed slightly and the twinkle lessened.

"Some, but hardly any. It's a very rare gift known as parseltongue. While there is nothing wrong with it, I would be careful who you tell. Many wizards fear it," he warned. Tom nodded understandingly. Dumbledore watched him for a second before returning to his previously jovial manner. "Very well then. Does this mean you are interested?"

"Yes. I'll have to discuss it with my father though."

"Naturally. Is he here at present?" Tom said he was and excused himself to go retrieve him. As he made his way to the sitting room, a nervous excitement and sense of pride filled him. He was a wizard and apparently the first in his family! He was also a talented and powerful one with a rare gift. He knew he was special. By the time he reached the rest of his family, he was positively buzzing with excitement.

"Father, Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you," he said as calmly and normally as possible. He failed rather awfully. His father and grandparents stared at him oddly, unaccustomed to seeing him so worked up over anything, so Tom Sr. rose quickly and headed to the parlor to see what this was all about. Seeing his father's reaction, Tom's buzz died just a little remembering how he'd reacted to the flying rocks. His father was a fairly religious man and probably believed magic was evil. Would he keep Tom from attending? Would he disown him for being the devil's child? Well, if he was disowned, then he could decide to go for himself. How would he pay for it though? Were there wizard scholarships? They entered the parlor and Tom Sr. had a similar action to Dumbledore. Still, he offered a hand and greeted him politely.

"Professor, I'm Tom Riddle. I understand you wish to speak with me?"

"Ah yes. Perhaps you should have a seat." Tom realized this was probably a good idea as the shock could be unpleasant. "I have just talked to Tom about a special ability of his. He has been involved in some unusual circumstances that you may be aware of. This is because he is a wizard." Dumbledore paused to allow Tom to absorb that before continuing. "I am a teacher at a school for magical children and I would like to offer him a place there. He has already expressed interest pending your approval." Tom Sr. nodded distractedly, a generally good sign. He opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail him.

"There... there's a school for this?" Both Tom and Dumbledore found this to be a strange first question.

"Yes. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"And he is one, right?" Tom asked rather distressed.

"Yes." Tom covered his mouth and stared out the window. Dumbledore leaned forward in his armchair and met Tom's eyes.

"Mr. Riddle, I feel this is only a minor shock for you. Is there anyone else in the family who-?"

"No, there's not," Tom answered abruptly.

"What's his mother's name?" Tom Sr. quirked an eyebrow suspiciously as Tom Jr. leaned forward. He didn't know his mother's name. He'd asked about her, but for whatever reason, he'd never thought to ask about her name.

"Merope. She died shortly after he was born," Tom told the professor. Merope. It was such an odd name, yet Tom could sense something almost pretty about it. It certainly fit if her father was named Marvolo.

"I'm so sorry. I asked only because some women have been known to keep this information a secret." Tom Sr. said nothing to this.

"How much will this cost?" Tom felt his hope rise again. His father was considering it!

"Just the cost of supplies. If money is an issue-"

"It's not. Is there a specific place where we buy wizard school supplies?" Now that Tom thought about it, his dad did have a good point. The few times he'd been to London, he couldn't recall seeing wizard supply stores.

"Naturally, the wizarding world is kept secret. Diagon Alley is the best place to go. It's accessible from the Leaky Cauldron. I fear, Mr. Riddle, you'll be unfamiliar with the location as only wizards can see the building. If you'd like, I would be willing to escort Tom there the first time and assist him with finding everything," Dumbledore offered.

"Thanks, but I can do it myself," Tom Jr. interjected before his father could reply. He hated being treated like a child and figured he could do something as simple as shop on his own.

"Actually Tom, I think it would be a good idea for you to go with the professor. It'll be completely unfamiliar and I'll be busy the rest of the month. When would you be available?" Tom asked Dumbledore much to his son's disliking. Dumbledore said he would be able to go anytime, and so it was decided that Tom would go to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning. With that, Dumbledore gave Tom an envelope of parchment and left.

"I cannot believe this," Tom Sr. sighed once Dumbledore left, slouching into his armchair as if he'd just run a marathon.

"It's rather surprising, no?" Tom agreed as he opened the wax seal bearing a crest with a lion, badger, snake, and raven around an H. He pulled out two sheets of paper. The first read:

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster Armando Dippet_

_Dear Mr. Riddle,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
Deputy Headmaster_

Awaited his owl? What in the word did that mean? Was it a wizard idiom for acceptance or reply? He would have to ask the professor tomorrow. The second sheet was a list of supplies. He grew even more excited as he read the names of the spell books. He was an avid reader and couldn't wait to get ahold of them. He handed the list to his father to review and Tom Sr.'s expression grew darker as he saw everything. He muttered to himself and Tom thought he detected a few swear words.

_"_Had to be expensive didn't it? Very well. If it's what you want," he resigned himself to the notion. Tom smiled brightly and gave his distressed father a comforting hug.

"It is," he assured him. However, Tom Sr. had one condition. Always thinking about the future success of his son, he made consent to a tutor in the summer for matters concerning science and politics. He was still hoping Tom would take that route. The boy didn't like the idea, but allowed it anyways. It wasn't that big of a deal. "Are we going to tell Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Later. Let's keep it a secret right now."

That night, Tom went to bed to the sounds of yelling adults. While his father took the news well, his grandparents did not. Tom was very grateful he wasn't present for that.

XXXXXXXXX

Tom Riddle Sr. was in a very bad mood the next morning. He told his parents about Tom's transfer and they did not take the news well. Not only did they worry about how society would see this (it would be hard to cover this up and the truth could not be known) but it brought back nasty memories from the past. They immediately blamed him for running off with that Merope girl and tainting the family line with her strangeness. They thought they'd seen the last of her. Tom had reminded them that he did not marry her willingly. She was a witch after all and had enchanted him, but they would have none of it. It was entirely his fault.

Tom Jr. came down later than normal for breakfast only to enter a room filled with tension. His wavy hair was tamed and parted neatly. His shirt was ironed and his shoes and cufflinks were polished. He would represent the Riddle family well when he entered the wizarding world for the first time on their behalf. The smile was wiped from his face when he sensed the hostility. His grandmother put on a smile and told him how nice he looked. His grandfather confirmed it and gave a few instructions on his behavior. Tom took a huge gulp of tea and tried to hide his irritation. So their grandson may be tainted with his mother's unnaturalness, but they weren't mad at him. Only with their son who purposefully ran off with the hag, risking the family's reputation and producing a barely legitimate heir. That was logical. The other three people at the table talked about what Tom might see today and what school could possibly be like as if this were the most natural thing in the word. Tom Jr. kept glancing over at him to make sure he was okay and he would do his best to give his son a reassuring smile. Finally, a knock sounded on the door and Tom Jr. asked for permission to be excused while trying to hide his anticipation. Tom couldn't help smiling at his son's enthusiasm and wished him luck as he handed him a roll of notes to pay. With a measured a step as possible, Tom Jr. left the room with a false sense of refinement. The adults chuckled to themselves once he was gone and then fell back into the black mood. He left for work as soon as possible.

XXXXXXXXX

Tom experienced his only moment of doubt at what he was doing when they apparated in front into a dank alleyway. When Professor Dumbledore had described apparation, it sounded as if they would just appear in a new location. Tom had just been squeezed through a tube the size of his little finger! It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience and he worried that other magic would be like this. He was shaking as they started walking.

"Don't worry Tom. Apparation is truly the most unnerving magic you'll probably ever face. It gets better with time and if you hate it, there are other methods of transportation. This is simply the easiest given the circumstances," Dumbledore explained. Tom nodded and pulled himself together. They walked out onto a bright, busy sidewalk in the middle of London and just down the street, Tom saw a dark building with a creaky wooden sign in front of it. Everyone seemed to ignore the building, so it made sense that this was actually their destination. They entered into what appeared to be a dark pub. A man who was beginning to age very poorly was drying glasses behind the counter. He greeted Dumbledore and introduced himself as Tom the bartender to Tom. Tom gave him a small nod and resisted the urge to grimace. While he was proud to have his father's name, it irritated him that it was such a common name at that. They walked to the back and out into a small courtyard surrounded by high brick walls. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped several bricks. To Tom's amazement, the wall opened up onto a busy street.

The cobblestone street was lined with bright-colored shops selling the most unusual of things. Just as peculiar were the people in the shops. People in brightly colored robes bustled in and out of the shops, negotiating prices, and talking with acquaintances. As they walked down the street, Tom could not help staring despite his good manners. They made their way to a giant white marble building at the very end of the street, which was later identified as Gringott's Bank. Dumbledore explained that muggle money could not be used in the wizarding world, and so they would have to exchange it. Tom noticed the riddle on the door as they walked in, but as he had no intention to steal, he didn't worry about it.

"Some say there are dragons in the lower levels of the bank," Dumbledore told him with an especially bright twinkle.

"There are dragons in this world?" Tom asked mystified.

"Oh yes! Dragons, unicorns, fairies, bowtruckles, hippogriffs, and goblins," he finished as they approached the high counter. Behind it sat a small, stern, green-grey creature weighing with scales. It looked up at Dumbledore with a most displeased expression. Tom felt a twinge of fear towards this creature.

"Yes?" the goblin asked in a high, nasally voice.

"We need to make a currency exchange," Dumbledore explained. The goblin took the roll of notes and filled out a few forms, which Tom had to sigh, and then gave him a bunch of odd coins. Dumbledore told him that the big gold ones were Galleons, the smaller silver were sickles, and the smallest bronze coins were knuts. Tom had never seen money liked this, and he liked it. They next bought him regular black robes, a cloak, pointed hats, and dragon-hide gloves. Tom felt as if he were getting ready for Halloween, not school. They also bought him a cauldron and potion's kit from the apothecary, a telescope, and scales. Next, they went to the bookstore. Flourish and Blotts was unlike anything Tom had ever seen before. Books were crammed into this small building in all forms. They were on shelves, stacked on tables, and piled from floor to ceiling in impossible stacks. Tom guessed they were held up magically. The store owner greeted them warmly and set off immediately to get Tom's books. Tom used this opportunity to wander about the store. He found books on curses and hexes, which interested him, but he figured Professor Dumbledore would not approve and he decided to put that off until he came by himself. Besides, he probably did not have enough foundation with this wand magic to perform any of these. He did get one book though: _Hogwarts, A History. _He guessed a lot of his fellow students would know about Hogwarts, probably coming from wizard families, and he refused to be behind everyone else. It should give him plenty of insight into his new school. He added this to his purchase, and then they left to get his wand. While Tom questioned how crucial the wand was, he was excited about it. In every fairytale, it was the key trait of a magical being. However, as they entered the store, Tom was very disappointed.

Olivander's Wands was a rather unremarkable building from the street, and even less welcoming inside. Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust. They approached the darkly lit counter and Dumbledore rang the bell on there. Immediately, an odd man poked his head from around the doorway.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore, an honor. And who is this?" Mr. Olivander was a tall, thin man with crazy blond hair that stuck out in all directions. Tom introduced himself, and offered a hand, but Mr. Olivander did not shake it. Instead, he pulled out a tape measure that began measuring every inch of Tom. "Which is your wand hand?" he asked. Tom was rather distracted by the tape measure, but guessed his right. Olivander called off the tape measure and disappeared again. The boy looked nervously at Professor Dumbledore who gave him a reassuring smile. Olivander returned with an arm full of boxes. "Try this. Holly and unicorn hair, very flexible." Tom took it and gave it an awkward wave. Nothing happened. Olivander snatched it up and handed him another: oak and dragon-heart string. He gave it another wave and this time a glass vase exploded. Tom apologized, but Olivander paid it no heed. They went through box after box, and eventually Tom wondered if he would ever find a wand. Perhaps this was proof that he didn't need one. Dumbledore continued to be patient as Olivander grew more frustrated. Finally, after an hour and a half, there was a breakthrough.

"Holly and Phoenix feather, just made a month ago," Olivander sighed as he handed him the wand. Tom felt a connection immediately and waved it. A few sparks came out, but Olvander was not convinced. "Almost... I wonder...," he mumbled as he left and dug for another wand. "Yew and Phoenix feather." Tom felt that connection again, but on a much more powerful level. He waved it and a significant amount of sparks in every color flew from the tip. "Ah ha! You have your wand." Tom grinned from ear to ear. "That's a very peculiar chose. You see Mr. Riddle, that wand is part of a set of wands. When the phoenix gave the feather for your wand, it also gave another. It's very rare, it entirely unique that a wand should share a core. Treasure that wand. It's special." Tom was pleased with this information. He was special and deserved an equally special wand.

That concluded their trip. Tom and Professor Dumbledore returned to the alley in which they came and apparated back to his house. Dumbledore gave him a train ticket and explained how to access Platform 93/4 and then warned him that from now on, he was not allowed to do magic as he bore a trace from the Ministry of Magic to watch under-aged wizards. Tom accepted these terms and went into the house to tell his family about his eventful day.

_A/N So what do you guys think? I've been dying to write this chapter, and think it came out pretty well. Sorry it took so long. I moved into my dorm on Friday for the first time so I've been extremely busy. I'll try and update faster next time. Please review!!_


	5. Chapter 5

The day Tom Jr. left for Hogwarts was not a happy occasion. Ever since the trip to Diagon Alley, Father and Son had collided heads on the issue of Tom's future. While Tom Sr. did not disapprove of Tom's going to the school, the maintance of normality was controversial. Tom had initially agreed to keeping a tutor over the summer to ensure he was well-versed in normal subjects and would not lag behind his classmates. However, as the idea was discussed more, he began to question the necessity. After all, he was well-read, intelligent, and years ahead of other students. Plus, in this new world, the Wizarding World, what good would normal economics be to him? Would not the two spheres function differently? This lead to further debate as to what career path Tom would take. It was his father's and grandparents' wish that he should eventually join Parliament. Even if he became a key economist that would be satisfactory. They wanted him to continue towards this, unaffected by this new development.

To make matters worse, Tom Sr. continued to feel the pressure from his parents. They no longer spoke harshly on the subject, did not risk mentioning Merope in case Tom overheard, but he could feel the hostility. It had been there for the first few years he had brought back this son, but Tom Jr. quickly worked his way into their hearts, and he was forgiven. Now, those hard feelings were back. He could only be thankful that the boy was not feeling the brunt of this. It would crush him. This was why he was so eager to make sure his son remained as normal as possible. Not only for Tom's sake, but for his. He needed to prove that he had not shamed the family, had not ruined the Riddle line, and had produced a legitimate heir. He understood Tom's fascination with the Wizarding World, but he needed to stay, at least visibly, in this one. Could he not understand that?

1 September. Tom's trunk was loaded into the car as he said goodbye to his grandparents. They were not joining him on the trip to the train station this time. His grandmother had been recently ill, and Tom Sr. had business to attend to in town anyways, so it was simply easier this way. Tom promised to write and spare no details of his year there. Finally, he managed to pry himself away from his grandmother and climbed into the passenger seat. He smoothed his hair, straightened his collar, and distantly avoided his father's eye. They had fought again the night before. He was already in his school uniform, unsure of what was expected of him. He avoided the robe as that would draw too much attention to himself. The car pulled out of the drive and he self-consciously toyed with his cuff-links. This would not be a fun ride at all.

The silence was palpable. Throughout the ride, each kept glancing over at the other, sometimes catching the other's eye, but neither spoke. Finally, they arrived in King's Cross Station and made their way towards Platforms 9 and 10. They found their way, but as to be expected, there was no 9 3/4. Tom carefully studied the people around him and suddenly, he saw it. A boy with bright red hair pushed his trolley through the third barrier, disappearing before his eyes. This had to be it. Counting, he noticed their were only four barriers. Hence 3/4. These wizards were clever.

"I found it Father. Through that barrier there. I just need to run at it and... somehow that gets me there," he explained. His father looked at him as though he were mad, but trusted his son on this.

"Are you sure Tom?" referring to more than just the barrier/platform/thing. Tom Jr. straightened up a bit more and grabbed hold of the cart.

"I want this more than anything before." A moment of awkwardness overcame Tom Sr. and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Tom, I... I'm really quite proud of you. I truly am happy for you. It's just, I want what's best for you in the long run, and sometimes I wonder... if you know what that is yet? I'm only hard on you because I care," he admitted. Tom Jr. smiled and hugged his dad quickly. He somehow knew there was more to the story, but he would let that suffice. It was true too.

"Thank you Dad. Well, I'm off then. See you at Christmas." With that, he took off for the barrier. He waited until he was closer before breaking into a run so as not to attract attention to himself. As he squeezed his eyes shut, he heard his father reminding him to have a good year. He ran and felt a cool, almost damp feeling pass in front of him, and then the sounds changed. He stopped running and opened his eyes to find himself on a crowded platform, surrounded by families of people in multi-colored robes. Students in uniforms climbed onto a scarlet train proclaiming itself to be the Hogwarts Express. Admittedly, this was a little overwhelming. He grabbed his trunk and pushed his way through the crowd. It took a bit of effort, but finally he managed to get his trunk on board and into a compartment of his own in the far back. As he waited for the train to leave, he pulled out a copy of Hogwarts, A History and began rereading it. He was unsure as to how many students would come from non-magical families and he wanted to ensure he was not too far behind. Thankfully, this assured him that children were not allowed to do magic, so he should be overall fine. Finally, the train pulled away from the station and they were off.

About ten minutes later, the door of his compartment opened. He peered over the edge of the volume to find a shy girl standing in the doorway with a ragged trunk and an owl in a cage. She had mousy hair in stick-straight pigtails, freckles, and huge glasses that magnified the size of her eyes. She was not in uniform yet, and wore very worn clothes that had seen better days. Clearly, she was not someone he would normally associate with.

"Pardon me, but can I sit here? Everywhere else is full," she almost whispered. He conceded and motioned to the seat across from him. She stowed away her trunk and put the owl on the seat next to her before sitting down. He returned to his book. However, Tom's logic returned to him and he decided that an ally in this place would not be a bad thing, so he might as well try and be friendly.

"I'm Tom Riddle of Little Hangleton," he declared, snapping the book shut, which caused the girl to jump and her glasses to slide down her nose. She pushed them back up and gave an awkward smile.

"Jane Euland. My family lives just twenty minutes from Little Hangleton. It's a lovely village," she responded to him in a slightly louder tone than before. Her feet swung as she talked due to her being so short. "Your family... are they the same Riddles who own the village?" Tom gave a small smirk as he informed her they did. "Ah. My family's debated that before. We heard the Riddles had some kind of power, but we weren't sure. After all, given the number of times the Ministry of Magic has had to interfere we thought some wizard did." She had is full interest with the words "Ministry of Magic." She came from a magical family, and she lived so close too! Suddenly, her inferiority seemed less.

"I didn't realize there were wizards so close to home. Why have I never heard of you?" he asked.

"Oh, we like to keep quiet... actually, it's the law we do. It was hard though when my brother was getting older. He kept turning people's hair different colors, but by accident of course! Mom and Dad had to keep him inside for six months until he stopped."

"Is your brother at Hogwarts now?" he continued, hoping to get some information out of her about this school.

"Oh yes. Rupert's a third year in Gryffindor. No one's sure why he's in it. Mom was a Ravenclaw and Dad was in Hufflepuff. So who knows where I'll end up. I just hope it won't be Slytherin," she trailed off. Tom inhaled slowly. Reading the descriptions of the houses, he rather liked Slytherin. Why would it be such a negative thing?

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Her eyes got wider hearing his unintentionally hostile tone and she stammered when she next spoke.

"S-sorry! You're f-family isn't from there are th-they?"

"Well, no. I'm the first one going here. But it sounds quite nice! Cunning and loyalty, those are traits I highly value," he explained. She shrugged and pushed her glasses up her nose again.

"Any wizard who ever went bad was in Slytherin. Outside of that though, they're supposedly really arrogant and mean. Rupert's always getting into fights with them." Tom nodded and settled back into his seat. Perhaps they were not the group to get mixed up in. Well, Ravenclaw sounded nice too! They continued to talk the entire trip, pausing only to buy snacks from the Trolley. After that, they had fun sorting through the Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. Strangely enough, this girl was quite interesting. He found himself actually enjoying her company. He'd only ever had one or two friends in his whole life, so this was a rare experience. Perhaps now that he was amongst his own kind, things would work out better for him.

It was dark outside when the train stopped. Supposedly they were in the town of Hogsmeade, though Tom had never heard of that before. According to Jane, it was an unplottable town, therefore it was not on any map. How did one make a town disappear? The students crept out onto the platform. From overhead, a call of "First years here!" was heard, and Tom and Jane made their way towards a young man later identified as Professor Kettleburn. The first years, about 100 in total, followed him to a dock surrounded by rickety boats. The duo entered a boat and were later joined by Charles Potter and a girl who refused to speak to them. Jane identified her as a Black, an ancient wizarding family. Together, they sailed across the lake. Tom was not unsurprised by the boat propelling itself across the glassy surface, but his breath was stolen when a giant castle came into view.

"That's Hogwarts," Jane whispered in his ear. It was perched on the side of a cliff and was comprised of countless towers and spires. The windows were lit gold and reflected off the lake. Tom could feel the knowledge of this ancient school radiating towards him.

The boat landed in an underground cave in the cliff, which contained carved stairs that led up to a giant wooden door. Professor Kettleburn led them up through the door into a small chamber. Then he left. The chamber exploded into a burst of chatter as people speculated how they would be sorted. Some people claimed they would fight a troll. Another suggested they had to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Although this was shot down, Tom was more likely to believe it. the book had mentioned a sorting hat, whatever that meant.

"Do either of you know how it's done?" Charles asked them. "My parents insisted it be kept a secret." Tom shook his head and Jane shrugged. She knew, but was keeping the secret. Suddenly, screams erupted in the chamber as ghosts passed through the walls. They paid no attention to the first years as they talked and floated on their way. It was not the idea of a ghost that scared him. He actually found this quite fascination. But the though that he could end up like them terrified him to the core.

The excited whispers were silenced as doors at the opposite end of the hall opened. Professor Dumbledore walked in wearing bright purple robes with silver stars. Tom thought this look suited him more than the suit he'd worn during their meeting. His eyes twinkled merrily as he looked upon the crowd over his half-moon glasses.

"Good evening all! I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. In a moment, you will be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Once sorted, your house becomes your family, but be cautioned, do not let your sorting define you. Some of the best friendships transend house prejudices. Well, let's begin!" he announced. With that, he led them into the Great Hall. Tom's eyes immediately darted to the ceiling, which really was enchanted to reflect the night sky. As he took his seat at the table being the Staff table, he looked out onto the rest of the school. The tables for each house ran the length of the hall. Each had roughly the same number of students, but was marked by their respective banners overhead. All over, candles floated magically to illuminate the room. He felt his stomach knot with anticipation.

Professor Dumbledore momentarily disappeared, but returned with a three-legged stool and ratty pointed hat. He placed it on the stool and then it began to sing. Tom stared at it in fascination, watching the wrinkles become a face and a rip in the brim act as a mouth. It sang to the students about the different houses, and the founding of Hogwarts, but Tom paid little attention. He'd read the all before. Finally, when the last note died, Dumbledore unwrapped a scroll.

"When I call your name, you will come forward. I will place the hat on your head, and it will decide where best to place you." And so it began. Tom watched as three students became Hufflepuffs, two were Gryffindor, five Ravenclaw, and only Miss Black became a Slytherin. Then Jane was called.

"Good luck," Tom whispered as she shyly made her way to the stool. She hunched her shoulders a bit and nearly tripped over her own feet on the way there. The hat waited a second before crying out "Ravenclaw." Tom clapped loudly as she happily took her spot under the blue and bronze banner. More students were sorted and he felt the knot increase as they professed through the alphabet. Finally, it got to him.

"Riddle, Tom." He composed himself as best he could and walked up to the stool. The hat sank over his eyes and he heard a voice whisper in his ear.

"Hmm... very complicated. You're bright, very bright. You would do wonders in Ravenclaw. But yet, you were meant for Slytherin. Curious. Where do I put you?" the hat asked. Tom's first instinct was Ravenclaw with Jane, but what did it mean he was "meant for Slytherin"?

"What do you mean?" he thought.

"I cannot tell you that."

"But I want to know!" Tom demanded.

"Then would you like to find out for yourself?"

"I guess so."

"You will do great things Tom Riddle. Just be cautious." And with that the hat cried, "Slytherin." Only Jane and a few other first years clapped for him. As he approached the table, the others simply stared at him curiously, and with barely concealed contempt. Perhaps he had chosen wrong?

_A/N_: _Hi all! Sorry, this was a hard chapter to write, and then the document was erased. Sorry if it's a bit before my normal standard. I am out of practice. School has been crazy. Anyways, please review and I'll try and update soon!_


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